


Just my type

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AKA Canon Grant Ward but in an AU, AU, Daisy Johnson just wants to do good, Dark Humor, Evil Grant Ward, F/M, Fluff, Hitman AU, I'm not even sure what this is, Literally based off of a movie trailer, Mentions of brainwashing, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Phil Coulson is a baby deer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6508804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boy meets girl. Boy gets dumped by girl. Boy meets different girl. Girl used to kill people for a living don't worry about it. Against every available survival instinct, boy doesn't seem too worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just my type

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shortitude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortitude/gifts).



> YEAH OKAY. So a couple months back I saw the trailer for the movie "Mr. Right," thought that Clark and Chloe totally could have done this instead of Sam Rockwell and Anna Kendrick. But then was like "but Daisy would be the hitwoman, obviously," then this happened. So if you've seen this movie, remember that I based it off of the opening scene, the meet-cute and the general idea of a hitman with a conscience, but then I don't know what happens in the actual movie so the similarities probably end there. 
> 
> For Shortitude/Tentaclabia because she was like "Hmm, there should be a Skoulson AU of this movie" and I was like "shit this movie finally came out I should finish that."
> 
> Anyway, ENJOY

Knocking on the door, Daisy squared her shoulders. She could hear the occupant of the apartment approach, so she threw on a dazzling smile for him to see through the peephole.

“Hey there,” she said, tilting her head as the door whipped open. Just another day at work.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The client-- Lloyd-- asked. The guy was super loaded--obviously, since he acquired her services-- but kept up a shitty rathole apartment in the city. He called it his “bachelor pad.”

 _Charming_.

Daisy widened her eyes dramatically. “Oh right,” she said, smacking her forehead in realization. “I totally forgot. I’m supposed to be in Tuscon, killing your wife.” She smiled brilliantly again. “My bad.”

“Hey, I paid you, do your job!” Lloyd said, irritated.

Considering his audience, he sure was tetchy.

“So here’s the thing,” Daisy said, placing her hands on her hips. She didn’t blame him for not noticing one tuck right in under her blazer. Few did. “Murder is wrong, Lloyd.”

 _And murdering someone just because she threatened to leave your cheating, embezzling, criminal ass?_  

That was just unconscionable.

Sharon was a smart woman. Daisy wished her well.

“It’s your _job_ ,” he said, in that smug angry white guy tone that made the next part so much easier.

“Oh, right.”

Daisy took out her gun.

* * *

Phil knelt down in front of the bottom shelf, eyeing its contents morosely. _Which are the best cure for your girlfriend cheating on you?_ He wondered, staring at the available donut packets. _Powdered or chocolate covered?_

What he really wanted to do was go to one of those fancy artisan donut shops that used sea salt or potato flour, but thanks to his fleeing instinct, highway rest stop would have to do. Phil had wanted to get far away from the apartment as quickly as possible (give her plenty of time to grab her belongings from their  _very recently_ joint apartment) and he’d certainly done that. Was he going to keep going? Leave the state?

_Food first, then moping._

Sighing, he grabbed both packets and stood heading toward the front counter. Turning a corner around a shelf, he bumped into something solid and lost his balance.

“Shit,” he heard as he fell backward, before a grip on his arms stopped him from landing on his ass. Phil found himself being jerked upright, staring at the young woman in front of him with surprise.

“You’re strong!” He blurted out, still wondering how exactly he wasn’t sprawled out on the floor just now. The girl was watching him, amused, and Phil’s face heated up. “I just mean--thanks,” he said, trying to maintain any semblance of dignity he had left.

“No problem,” she said, and along with being fairly small, Phil realized that his rescuer also happened to be incredibly beautiful. She bent down while Phil cursed himself over completely losing his cool. She had to be what, 22, 23? The sight of her holding out the donut packets he’d dropped while being essentially plucked out of midair only made him feel more pathetic. Maybe he could lie and say they were for his kids, then she wouldn’t suspect he was about to go back in his car and stuff all of it into his face. Possibly while listening to some sad music.

Yeah, he had _The Virgin Suicides_ soundtrack all queued up. He wasn’t ashamed.

“These are my favorite,” she said instead of asking any questions, holding up the powdered donuts. “Or--” her brow furrowed, and she eyed the others. “Maybe these are.”

“It’s hard to choose,” Phil agreed, smiling a bit. The girl nodded, handing both back to him.

“Is one of those for your wife?” She asked, before glancing down at his left hand. “Or girlfriend?” Phil’s face must have done a thing, because suddenly her eyes became wide and guilty.

 _Nice work_.

“I’m so sorry, that’s none of my business.”

“It’s fine, don’t--it’s fine,” Phil said, waving it away. _Just please stop making that face._ The girl nodded, brushing a lock of short, wavy hair behind her ear. “My girlfriend cheated on me,” he said, apparently deciding candid was the way to go. “I walked in on her, it was-- it was bad.” The girl’s eyes widened considerably, but she didn’t say anything, so he kept going. “So I’m going to eat both of these, alone, in my car and stall for as long as possible before going back to my hopefully vacated apartment.”

His companion nodded thoughtfully, looking a bit taken aback but not freaked out in any way, which Phil thought was generous. But hey, if he was going to be self-indulgent with his self-pity, why not drag in an innocent third party?

“Do you want company?” She asked, shocking the hell out of him.

“Excuse me?”

The girl shrugged, looking a little embarrassed by her offer. “Sorry, you just seem like maybe you shouldn’t be, like, alone right now? That was weird, my bad.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “To be honest, I’m not having the best day either.”

Phil frowned, sympathetic. “Relationship issues?” Honestly, he was having a hard time believing the girl in front of him could be dealing with rejection in any form.

“Work, actually,” she said. That made more sense.

“Do you want to...talk about it?” Phil asked awkwardly, not sure how at this point to accept her offer of joining him for self-pity snacks. She sighed, giving him a tired smile that made Phil question his earlier assessment. The young woman definitely had a youthful appearance, but her eyes looked as though they had seen more years than the rest of her.

“Not really,” she said, and Phil nodded despite his heart sinking a bit. “But I’m open to listening. Or just eating in friendly silence.”

 

Sitting in his car, Phil had a revelation.

The girl, Daisy, had made some quick remark about her “line of work,” while they were walking through the parking lot and suddenly inviting a young woman from a rest stop into his car seemed a lot more...troublesome than he had originally thought. Honestly, he was a bit embarrassed at himself that he hadn’t picked up on it before.

Had she gotten the wrong idea about him? She had grabbed her own packet of donuts (deciding on chocolate covered and promising to steal one or two of his powdered) so it seemed like she was there for the snacking and talking.

_Or not talking._

Come to think of it, she’d also grabbed a packet of wet-naps, _‘for the powdered sugar,’_ she’d explained, before tugging at his lapel. ‘ _Don’t want to ruin your nice suit.’_

_Oh god._

Don’t get him wrong, she was a lovely girl, but car sex at a rest stop was probably not the best way to deal with a breakup. Not to mention illegal. And he felt bad for misleading her and possibly wasting her time. Not to mention foolish, for thinking someone like her, with her gorgeous eyes and face and leather jacket that somehow made her look both delicate and _dangerous,_ would ever seriously just want to have a chat with a miserable guy like him.

Clearing his throat, Phil looked over at Daisy, who was sipping from her slurpie. “What’s up, Phil?” She asked, eyebrow raised curiously.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, before pursing his lips. “So your job,” he began, trying to sound casual, “you’re planning on leaving?”

Daisy tilted her head thoughtfully. “Sort of?” She seemed to consider her words carefully. “It’s just something I got into without really understanding, and now I’m not sure it’s for me anymore. But it’s...difficult to leave it completely.”

Phil nodded. The way she spoke, she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, but the implication that she might not be able to leave safely didn’t sit well with him.

“What do you do?” She asked, friendly.

“Professor,” Phil told her, before shrugging. “Retired. Semi-retired,” he admitted.

Looking him over, Daisy frowned. “You look kind of young to be retired,” she said.

“I was in a bad...altercation about a year ago,” Phil told her, looking at his dashboard. It wasn’t one of his favorite memories. “I’m fine now, but for various reasons I decided I wasn’t quite ready to go back. I still teach occasionally, lectures, sometimes help out with some grading.”

Phil, felt a hand on his arm, and looked up to see her looking at him with those wide, pity-filled eyes again. But no, not pity. _Empathy_.

“What happened?” She asked, then winced. “Wow, seriously none of my business,” she said, taking her hand back. “Sorry, I’m a little scattered, with, you know, the whole work thing. But this--” she gestured around his painfully average car. “Is nice.”

“Yeah?” Phil asked, not quite sure what kind of turn this had taken, but loving the way she genuinely seemed to be at ease and enjoy his company. Outside of the car, it began to rain.

“Yeah,” Daisy agreed. “It’s not often that I get to just sit and talk with someone these days,” she said ruefully. Suddenly she appeared horribly lonely, staring outside the car window at the gray sky. This time it was Phil who reached out to her.

“Do you want to get dinner?”

***

Daisy sat in front of her laptop, her ass falling asleep on the hardwood floor. She really needed to get furniture, apart from the mattress on the floor across the room. _Maybe just a rug,_ she thought, never knowing when she’d have to relocate. She never stayed in the same place for too long. It was best not to keep anything she couldn’t load up in her van quickly and flee.

_Which is why this is dangerous._

Looking over at the outfit laid out on her bed, she sighed. Was it smart to go out with this guy? Potentially involve him in the insanity that was her life now?

Probably not.

But he had a kind face and it wasn’t as though he was going to look at her and think ‘assassin.’

_Former assassin._

She frowned.

_Opposite assassin. Assassin-seeker assassin? Assassin on the mend?_

She hoped he didn’t ask any more questions about her job. In order not to get caught in a lie, it was best to be vague. And that could get difficult with extended interactions. She knew all this. And yet…

On her screen, Daisy clicked open one of several tabs she had pulled up.

 _‘Shots fired in area diner,_ ’ she read, scanning the page for information. It looked innocuous enough, just a guy being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But when her eyes landed on the photo of the detective assigned to the case, her jaw dropped, before she slammed her laptop shut.

And Daisy wasn’t an easy girl to surprise.

***

A knock at the door to his apartment startled Phil, just as he was deciding on tie or no tie. The restaurant he was meeting Daisy at was nice, but not _too_ nice. Again, he was self-conscious of the image he was presenting.

 _And_ embarrassed that he still wasn’t quite sure what her career was. And whether or not she knew that he had no idea. And that he might possibly be offending her with his assumption but to be fair a lot of it added up. It wasn’t that he minded (as long as she was the one choosing it, which he wasn’t quite sure about) but he just didn’t want there to be a misunderstanding. She was a nice girl he liked. That’s all. _Friends,_ maybe they could be _friends._ He wasn’t about to assume she was _interested_ in him.

Another, more impatient knock startled Phil out of his internal struggling, and he made his way to the door. After checking the peephole, Phil opened the door, surprised.

“Daisy?” He asked, seeing none other than the girl herself standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” she said, bashfully, holding up a six pack. “I hope you don’t mind, I was thinking maybe we could stay in?” He must have made another face, because she grimaced. “Sorry, this was weird, wasn’t it?”

 _She does that a lot._ Second guess herself. So Phil did what he did _a lot._

“No, no, it’s fine!” He said, stepping aside so she could come in. “Is everything okay?” Something seemed off, like she was just trying to seem casual. _While showing up on my doorstep a half hour before our date._ Phil frowned. “Wait, how did you know where I live?”

Daisy’s brow furrowed as she placed the beer on the kitchen counter. “You told me,” she said, and Phil was even more confused.

“I did?”

“Yeah,” she said, walking back over. “When you told me that _my_ neighborhood was ‘a hazard in itself,’” she said, making little air quotes. Phil nodded; he did remember saying that. It felt a little crass to insult her, but it wasn’t a _lie_. He doubted a building inspector had been by in the last decade. “You were right though,” she said, looking around. “This is a lot nicer.”

“I didn’t mean to--” Phil winced. He really wasn’t a snob. He didn’t like to think he was. But yes, he had and enjoyed nice things. It was a family trait.

“It’s fine,” she said, waving his guilt away. “I told you, it’s only until I can really get out into the city and find something better. It’s basically a hostel.”

“Basically,” Phil grumbled, before looking around. “Sorry, I don’t have much by way of--” Date food? Ambiance?

Daisy pointed to his phone. “No problem, I can order pizza. If that works for you?”

“Pizza sounds great.”

Moving to put her beer in the fridge and leaving two out to open, he listened to her call in the pizza order. Phil had to admit, he was disappointed. If he had planned on a night in, he could have cooked. He was a really good cook. That was an awkward brag he had yet to unleash. But something was up, and a little improvised date at home was better than her not showing up at all, right? Placing her phone on the counter, Daisy removed her jacket.

“Oh, let me,” Phil said, taking it to hang up on the coat hanger by the door. It was the same jacket from the day before, the leather one. But her outfit underneath was different from the chunky sweater and leggings she’d worn before. “You look nice,” he said, noticing how the simple black dress seemed to show off her shoulders. Catching a glimpse at her biceps, Phil was slightly less surprised she was so easily able to lift his weight.

“Thanks, you too,” she said gesturing to his outfit. “Very casual, I like it.”

_I guess no tie then._

Daisy smiled slowly before taking a sip of her beer.

 

Phil was a romantic. A ‘take it slow’ kind of guy. Considering the fact that he had broken up with his girlfriend and she had moved out that same day, he figured he would go even slower.

“What’s wrong?” Daisy asked, pulling away from him slightly but not moving from her spot straddling his thighs.

 _A lot, probably,_ Phil thought, glancing down at his hands gripping her hips, holding her in place. “Nothing.”

Daisy smiled, a little sighing laugh of a grin, before leaning back down. Phil vaguely registered her hair tickling his face before her lips met his again and he was understandably distracted. Daisy slid her tongue in his mouth, eliciting a surprised grunt from Phil before he returned her enthusiasm. Sliding one hand up to her spine Phil pulled Daisy down closer, and her response was to move up, grinding her hips against his slowly.

Was it wrong to be making out on his couch like a teenager, surrounded by the smell of beer and pizza, just hours after ending a three-year relationship? Messed up? Most likely, but he was painfully hard and Daisy was apparently very much into that and at least he waited until the relationship was _over_ , right?

Phil was finally feeling confident enough to try to say something cool about moving to the bedroom, but before he could come up with a way that didn’t sound like a sleazy or pathetic line he felt Daisy freeze on top of him.

“What’s--” he asked, before hearing the front door unlock and open. Leaning on his elbows Phil turned as much as possible with Daisy still on top of him to look down the hall. “Hello?” He called, wondering if maybe Daisy wouldn’t mind climbing off of him. Suddenly he wondered if _She_ had forgotten something and thought for a fleeting, petty moment that maybe Daisy was fine where she was.

“I thought you were out,” a familiar voice called before the ‘intruder’ stepped into the living room. And grimaced.

“Melinda,” Phil said, before moving more fully to sit up. Daisy got the hint, agilely climbing off of him and straightening the hem of her dress.

“I wouldn’t have come by if I knew you were here,” Melinda said flatly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Right,” Phil said, standing up and straightening his collar. “You mean you wouldn’t have come by to steal my scotch if you knew I was here,” he joked, and his friend rolled her eyes.

“That was one time.”

Phil smiled, but noticed her looking over to Daisy, who looked remarkably unfazed by the interruption. Extra remarkable, since Melinda May had a way about her that left most people, well, _fazed_.

“Melinda, this is Daisy,” he said, gesturing toward the younger woman, who moved forward and extended her hand. They shook hands, friendly enough, though May still looked a bit disturbed. “Melinda’s husband and I work at the same school, he’s in the psychology department.”

“He _is_ the psychology department,” Melinda said, and Phil smirked. Andrew was definitely a standout professor, and it could be difficult to figure out if the many students were lining up outside his office because of his notoriously thorough grading, his notoriously expert advice, or his equally notorious good looks.

“And she and I go way back,” Phil added, knowing that getting mushy about their friendship only made May more uncomfortable. And as much as he loved his friend, he wasn’t sure he loved this situation.

“Do you teach too?” Daisy asked, friendly, and Phil smiled.

“No, no,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “Detective May is responsible for keeping our streets safe,” he said, making sure to make her sound terribly impressive. To be fair, she was.

“Oh,” Daisy said, and Phil noticed the barest hint of _something else_ on her face apart from the usual slight surprise. And if he noticed, he was sure _Detective May_ was on it. “Wow, that’s badass,” Daisy said, and Phil could see May try to restrain the typical eye roll.

“Very badass,” Phil agreed, before noticing May’s eyes as they scanned the apartment. “Can I get you something?” He asked his friend, sounding only slightly peeved.

“Andrew’s making soup, asked me to see if we could borrow your,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Soup pan.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Stock pot?” He asked, and May sent him a dangerous look. She was not to be made fun of, particularly when it came to the kitchen. ‘None of your bullshit, Coulson,’ he could hear her say. They’d met while she was enrolled in the police academy, so while the ‘good friends on a last name basis’ thing had been a joke about her more formal quirks at first, it just sort of stuck. They were both creatures of habit.

 _Which is why this probably looks insane to her,_ he thought, taking a look at the mess from dinner and the weirdly empty spots around the room where furniture or decorations had been clearly recently _displaced._

“Come on, I’ll grab it for you,” he said, waving her toward the kitchen. “Can I grab you anything?” He asked Daisy, who shook her head in the negative.

“I’m actually going to use your bathroom,” she said, and Phil had to admire her social tactics in giving him and May a moment to talk in privacy.

_Or she just needs to pee. Or get away from this awkward situation. Or wonder what she’s doing here in the first place and call an Uber to get home before May leaves._

Pulling himself out of the spiral, Phil walked into the kitchen, Melinda in tow.

“Go ahead,” he said, digging through the cabinets to grab the particular pot she was looking for. Predictably, she was silent. “We met...recently, it’s not a big deal,” Phil explained, pausing for a response behind him. He received none. “We met today,” he admitted, “But it’s not-- we just had a nice talk and now we’re getting to know each other.” He winced, imagining the expression she was making at that. “I mean-- you know what I mean.”

Pulling one pot out before realizing it wasn’t the right one--the kitchen was one place that was still over-cluttered--he reached deeper into the cabinet. “I know it probably looks like a rebound thing, but I wasn’t anticipating things getting that...intense,” Phil told her, sighing.

At last finding the right pot, he turned around, wielding it victoriously. May just stared at him, bored look on her face. “What? Nothing?” She was a woman of few words but the ones she usually offered would fit well in this context.

“Be careful with the young ones,” she said, and Phil winced in sympathy.

“Partner still being a pest?” May’s former partner had retired, so the department set her up with a young hotshot who seemed to _admire_ her. 

“I don’t know what’s worse,” she said, turning the large pot over in her hands. “The ego, the need to impress or the...persistence.”

Phil had joked around, rather meanly, when she’d first told him. She was finally getting to experience what he imagined was the law enforcement equivalent of the student crush. But apparently while the guy made no outright moves, his interest was obvious enough to get on May’s nerves.

“He’s bound to make mistakes at some point, right? Just keep track of them and when you have enough to give sufficient reason for a switch--”

“He doesn’t make mistakes,” Melinda said, irritated. “That’s the worst part, he’s a model detective.” Phil raised his eyebrows at the word choice, and May whacked him in the arm with the pot before walking out of the kitchen and down the hall.

“Tell Andrew I say hi!” Phil called, hearing her open the door. “And I’m going to want that back!” The door shut.

Phil walked back into the living room rubbing his elbow where he’d been hit. From the couch, Daisy smiled at him awkwardly. “Sorry about that,” Phil told her, fiddling with the rolled up sleeve above his elbow.

“No, it’s fine, I’m--” She shook her head lightly, looking very old and very exhausted suddenly. “I should probably go.” Alarmed, Phil crossed the room as she stood up.

“You don’t have to,” he said, already regretting how half-assed that sounded. “I mean, I don’t want you to go. You can, if you want, but you’re welcome to stay.” Daisy seemed to digest all of that nonsense, looking at him curiously.

“By _stay_ , you mean--”

“Whatever you want,” Phil reassured her. It wasn’t _just_ that he wanted to spend more time with her, although that was also definitely true. Phil was getting the same feeling in his gut he’d had earlier, the one that drove him to invite her back to his car, then out to dinner. What was it she had told him? He’d seemed like he shouldn’t be left alone? _Right back at you._ Whether it was job problems or significant other problems or whatever, the idea of Daisy alone in her terrible neighborhood all by herself--not for safety reasons, either-- made him uneasy.

She seemed lonely.

They had that in common.

“I can sleep on the couch,” he offered, then shrugged, “or you can sleep on the couch.” Daisy seemed too strong, too sharp, too humble to be offended by the suggestion she take the couch, as the guest. Daisy eyed the couch, not distastefully, but pensively. Turning to Phil, she placed a hand on his forearm, and he could feel the goosebumps form already.

“Can you just talk to me for a while?” She asked softly, as if she were asking the world of him.

 _Who is this girl?_ Phil wondered. And why did it always feel like they were begging each other to stay?

***

Daisy woke up the same way she usually did these days; panicking. Taking a deep breath she looked around the room. _Phil’s,_ she thought, recognizing her surroundings. Phil’s living room, to be specific. Judging by the arm draped over her stomach and the soft sound of deep, even breathing behind her, they had both fallen asleep on the couch.

She fought off the smile threatening to form on her face, remembering the talking they had done. _And the not-talking._

That was nice too.

She honestly couldn’t explain it, but something about the guy drew her in. He was nothing if not normal, but also kind, and funny, and those were all things her life had been sorely lacking in.

That wasn’t to say that guilt didn’t play a part as well.

‘ _What happened here?’_ She’d asked gently, combing her fingers through his chest hair just far enough from the scar to not be too invasive. Phil told her the story about the diner, nothing really new from the reports she’d read, apart from the fact that he’d been out with Detective May at the time. She got away mostly unscathed but felt responsible for Phil almost bleeding out on the diner floor. The culprit was yet to be found, but apparently May was convinced that it was someone out to get her. Maybe from a former case, Phil hadn’t been sure. It made Daisy uneasy, the idea that May could have unwittingly gotten involved in her mess.

 _‘It’s pretty gross, huh?’_ Phil joked, but she could see the self-consciousness in the gesture.

Hidden beneath the covers, she ran her fingers over her stomach, feeling the marred skin there. She’d managed to conceal it up to that point, and were it not difficult to explain, she would have showed it to him. As it was, she just sighed, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

_‘I dunno, it’s kinda badass.’_

Regretfully, Daisy lifted Phil’s arm so she could get up, rolling her eyes at the soft noise of protest he made. Quickly she replaced the borrowed t-shirt she was wearing with her dress and scampered out the door, not wanting to wake him.

Grabbing her coat from the entryway, she wrote a quick note on a spare piece of paper, saying she would see him again soon. Cheerfully, Daisy wondered if it might be worth it to grab a phone he could contact her with. Just a burner, that would be fine, right?

None of it was a good idea, she knew that. She knew she was kidding herself if she thought this could last. What was she going to do, stay in one place and risk being found out? For this guy? She caught a glimpse of his shoes, all neatly lined up by the door.

_Maybe just for a little longer._

Grinning, Daisy left the apartment, shutting the door behind her quietly.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Daisy whipped around, looking down the hallway. A few feet away, he sat on the stairs going up to the next floor.

“I gotta say, this is sloppy for you, Skye,” Ward said, standing up and moving closer. Daisy moved into a defensive posture, trying not to be alarmed at how quickly _that_ instinct had returned.

“That’s not who I am anymore,” she said, not just talking to Ward. Giving her an unsettling smile (‘happy’ had never been a good look on the man, it almost always meant something terrible was going to happen. Or already had,) her former ‘classmate’ stepped even closer. “Back off, Ward,” Daisy said, incredibly conscious of Phil’s flimsy apartment door directly behind her.

“You know, our business isn’t something you just quit,” he said, stopping about a foot in front of Daisy. Their boss had always said that Grant Ward had shark eyes, and he hadn’t been exaggerating.

 _But sharks need to kill_ , Daisy remembered thinking after their first joint assignment. _He enjoys it._ She had been under the impression the two of them were the same, raised in the program from an early age, but Ward had been a special case. A ‘late bloomer,’ John had called him jokingly. Ward wasn’t taught to kill as a child, he discovered a knack for it as a teen.

“I didn’t feel like waiting around to get _fired_ ,” Daisy replied, and Ward let out a humorless chuckle. Yeah, he’d never been the joking type.

“Interesting company you decided to keep,” he said, gesturing to the door behind her. Putting on a look of confusion, Ward checked his watch. “Kind of early for a visit, don’t you think?” As exaggerated 'realization' began to dawn on him, Daisy rolled her eyes. She would rather focus on what he intended to do to Phil than his attempts to shame or embarrass her.

“He has nothing to do with this,” Daisy said sharply.

“Then maybe he should stop palling around with nosy cops,” Ward replied, sounding bored.

“You never really got the ‘low profile’ part down, did you Ward?” Daisy asked, crossing her arms in front of her. “Because I’m pretty sure getting up close and personal with those ‘nosy cops’ isn’t Garrett’s idea of subtle.” She put on a glowing smile, knowing full well how many people had seen that same face seconds before they died. “But then again, you were never one to sit back and let others get credit. You’d rather be pictured in every newspaper branded a hero than actually do your job well. And quietly.”

If Daisy had any less training, she might have not known what Ward was planning, not with enough time to keep him from snapping her neck. As her back made contact with the wall, she pushed his hand away from her throat and lunged forward, headbutting him in the face. Ward let out a brief pained noise before grabbing Daisy by the collar of her dress and slamming her to the floor. Rolling over quickly Daisy grabbed the knife she knew he kept at his ankle and slashed at his leg. Stomping on her hand Ward cursed and Daisy jumped upright, kicking him in the chest. She may not have been a match for Ward in hand-to-hand, but that knowledge had always served her well, because Ward knew it too. He always let himself get too comfortable, underestimating her.

She would find it more insulting if his ignorance didn’t work in her favor. That, and the fact that she wasn’t so concerned about not making a mess and covering her tracks. Not like he was. She didn’t have to report back anymore.

“You have no idea, do you?” Ward glared at her, wiping a bit of blood away from his nose. “I’m not going to kill you here,” he said, and Daisy would have laughed if she wasn’t well aware that he was making a tactical decision, not just trying to make a show of bravado. “But this discussion isn’t over.”

“I’m keeping this,” Daisy said, holding his knife up in the air. Ward rolled his eyes, limping down the hallway. For a moment, Daisy considered throwing the knife into his back, puncturing a lung and killing him then and there. There was already blood on the floor, so cleanup would only be marginally more difficult.

_I don’t do that anymore._

Instead she let him leave, hoping that her doing so wouldn’t result in any more lives lost. Not before she could end the whole operation once and for all.

 

Phil leaned back against his front door, heart pounding. _This is a dream, right? I’m still asleep. Or I woke up too early and am hallucinating._ One of those had to be the explanation for what he’d just seen.

When Phil heard a commotion outside his door and realized Daisy’s absence, he suspected the worst. At least, what he _thought_ was the worst. _What the hell just happened?_ Despite his instincts telling him to lock himself in his bedroom and call Melinda (or 911, which he supposed was warranted considering what had transpired. But it was _him_ ; Phil needed to warn May,) he looked through the peephole once more. Daisy was alone still, after watching the man leave. She seemed unnaturally still, like she was waiting for some indicator that it was okay to move again. She seemed to find it, because she began to walk away. Phil wondered if he should open the door, tell her to wait --why, he had no idea-- but saw her crouch down over the blood that had dripped onto the floor. She seemed to contemplate it, and for one heart-stopping second she looked at his door. Could she see him? She apparently could do a lot of scary things, maybe that was one of them. Phil frowned as she looked down at the knife in her hands. Sighing, Daisy stood up, placing the blade on her palm--

“Stop!” Phil yelled, opening his door. Daisy jumped but miraculously didn’t cut herself, her eyes wide. “What-- what--?” Phil just stared at her, and the blood, then her again, all of it looking much more _real_ up close like this.

“I can explain!” Daisy said, holding up her hands. One was still holding the knife and the other was rapidly becoming black and blue. Phil waited, and Daisy cringed. “Yeah, no I can’t explain.”

***

Daisy winced slightly as Phil looked at her hand, turning it over carefully in his own. He couldn’t tell if anything was broken, but it certainly looked that way. He thought about the way that man--Melinda’s _partner_ \-- had stomped on it, like he was trying to crush an object, not a person.

“So, you’re an assassin,” Phil said coolly, carefully wrapping an ace bandage around the base of her fingers to keep them still. She would need to get medical care if they were broken, but somehow he doubted that was going to be an easy sell.

“Retired,” Daisy said, sounding like she was making a joke, but watching him carefully.

“Was the pay lousy, or…?”

“Stop,” She said, standing up. “I shouldn’t be here, I’m so sorry.” She moved toward the door of the bathroom they had set up shop in, but Phil grabbed her wrist--her good one.

“Please don’t go.”

Daisy looked at him as if he had just sprouted a tail. A look, he supposed, that was warranted. But contrary to everything his gut was telling him, he gestured for her to sit back down. “You’re hurt.”

Shockingly, Daisy sat down, staring at him with that same look of surprise. And slight horror. Phil’s self-preservation instincts were, admittedly, flawed. He reached for her injured hand again, but Daisy shook her head.

“This is fine for now, I’ve got someone who can take a look at it,” she said, and Phil actually believed her. He wondered if maybe he shouldn’t stop that.

"Before, with the knife. You were going to...?"

She looked confused for a moment before appearing to understand. "I mean, I figured I'd have to explain the blood in your hall somehow," she said wryly, but Phil was horrified. She was willing to cut her own hand open, one that was already seriously injured to keep up the lie? 

_What the hell has she been through?_

Daisy swallowed heavily, before reaching over and placing her good hand over one of his. “I shouldn’t be putting you in danger like this,” she said, looking at him in a way Phil wasn’t sure anyone ever had before.

“I’m okay with that,” he said honestly. And he was, which was probably the worst part. Daisy let out a watery laugh, and Phil squeezed her hand tighter.

“God, I actually believe you.” Phil smiled at her softly and she smiled back, sighing almost wistfully. “You’re something else,” Daisy said, and for a surreal moment Phil noticed he was blushing. There was a professional hitman’s blood outside his apartment door and he was blushing because a girl complimented him.

Yeah, his self-preservation instincts definitely left something to be desired.

“I feel like I need to tell you--” Daisy started, looking as worried as he’d ever seen her. “I’m not--I wasn’t--” She sighed. “I did a lot of bad things,” she said flatly.

“When did it start?” Phil asked, not sure he wanted the answer.

“I was in the foster system until I was seven,” she said, and Phil felt a bit nauseated. “Then I found my _forever_ _home_ ,” Daisy said lightly.

“With a group of...hitmen,” he finished. “And women.”

Daisy winced. “You know it sounds a lot more bizarre when you say it,” she offered, but Phil was pretty sure it would sound equally unbelievable coming from anyone.

“How long have you been trying to get out?”

“Not long enough.”

Phil thought about some of the cases May had told him about, cases that sent her to his apartment for a drink or three before she could face her husband again. Kidnappings, Stockholm syndrome, brainwashing. They were rare, but each one horrible enough to leave an impact on her.

But this was even further outside the box.

“Six months.” Daisy said, jolting Phil from his train of thought. He looked at her curiously. “The last person I killed was six months ago.”

Phil nodded, and surprisingly found himself not reeling away or wanting to run for the hills.

“He was the last ‘job’ I was able to sabotage before they found out,” she explained, staring at her battered hand. “Everything is kept so quiet in that world, it gave me some time before people caught on that my assignments weren’t going according to plan.”

“You started killing the people who hired you, instead of the innocent people they wanted dead.” Phil offered. Daisy frowned.

“All that time I was told I was doing something good, that I was helping people and it was a lie. So I sort of...changed plans.” She seemed to go somewhere else then, and Phil placed a comforting hand on her knee.

“How can I help?”

***

“Your girlfriend moved out four days ago,” May said, eyeing the laptop and fuzzy throw that now sat on his couch. “You met this girl _four days ago._ ”

“It’s a long story,” Phil said, eyeing the closed bedroom door. _A very long story._ One he wasn’t sure he would ever hear all of, if that’s what Daisy decided. Despite the danger (or perhaps because of it) Daisy had essentially moved in. Getting Melinda to come by after that awkward first encounter had been difficult, and Phil had been a nervous wreck. However, when Andrew let slip that her partner was out for the week for a ‘family emergency,’ he felt slightly better. Sure, the guy could be consulting with his boss or planning to get rid of all of them, but at least he wasn’t tailing Phil’s closest friend.

“I’ll bet,” Melinda said, sipping her beer.

The past few days had been surprisingly _nice,_ apart from the whole ‘being hunted down by killers’ aspect. That strange connection he felt to Daisy still lingered, whether they were discussing her upcoming strategy at the kitchen table or being...otherwise occupied in the bedroom. Or living room. Or yes, the kitchen one time but they got right back to work afterward. There was a lot to be done, even more than Daisy had suspected.

“How well do you know the police chief?” Phil asked, and May raised an eyebrow.

“Pierce? Not well,” she said, shrugging. “Well-respected, seasoned. Big Scorsese fan. Why?”

Phil winced apologetically. “I have some bad news.” Melinda sent him a very tired look, finishing her beer. “Does your mom still have close contacts at the FBI?”

***

“This is a bad idea,” Daisy said, and Phil rolled his eyes--actually rolled his eyes!--at her. He was learning too much.

“I’m beginning to think that’s your catchphrase,” he replied, all chill and relaxed like he was hot shit. His hands began to creep up under her shirt and Daisy sent him a very stern look.

“We’re pretty isolated out here,” she said nervously, staring out the window of the cabin.

“Good thing you’re here to protect me.”

It was Daisy’s turn to roll her eyes then, dropping her duffel bag and wrapping her arms around Phil’s neck. “I’m not sure I like this whole ‘letting other people handle it,’ thing,” she admitted, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“I promise Melinda is very competent,” Phil said, moving his hands up to a more innocent gesture of rubbing her back. “And her mother is very terrifying.”

While Daisy wanted to believe him, she knew Ward, knew Garrett. And she didn’t know how deep the organization ran. There had been half a dozen kids in her ‘class’ starting out, and last she knew at least one besides Ward was still alive. Were there groups after theirs? Before?

“Some people think I’m pretty terrifying,” Daisy said, almost making it sound like a joke.

Phil tilted his head, seeming to take her in. “Eh,” he shrugged, before pulling her into a tight hug. Daisy admitted she was startled by the whole “hugging” thing. The fact that sometimes during the day she would do or say something and Phil would want to hug her just for that, not looking for it to lead to anything or with some ulterior motive? That was new, to say the least. Genuine physical affection, apart from the occasional “good job” pat on the arm when she was younger was virtually nonexistent.

Sure, outside of work they were to live “normal” lives once they were full time, and unless they were working a double assignment everyone was to steer clear of each other and wait for instructions. But that didn’t exactly allow for meaningful relationships to form. _Don’t get too close to anyone and move often._ Yeah, even Daisy knew that didn’t qualify as normal for most folks.

“You’re weird. You know that, right?” Daisy asked, muffled slightly by Phil’s shoulder. He laughed quietly, but Daisy pulled back. “Seriously, how are you just rolling with this? I shouldn’t even be near you, I’m putting you in danger.”

Phil frowned. “Technically I was in danger before you even got here,” he said, eyes glancing down for a second at his chest. “Don’t worry, I know what they’re capable of.” Daisy shook her head, exasperated.

“No, you really don’t.” Daisy grabbed his hand, placing it on the messy splash of scars on her stomach. She’d continued to keep it from him, wearing at least a t-shirt at all times, unless the room was dark enough. A couple times his hand would ventured up there while he went down on her but she distracted him by lacing his fingers through hers and pulling them away.

Phil looked into her eyes cautiously, as if asking for permission. She nodded, looking away as he lifted her shirt slightly.

“Jesus, Daisy,” he hissed, rubbing his thumb gently over one ugly mark as if it might still hurt.

“The job wasn’t going well, and I got in the way,” she explained flatly, wincing at the memory. “Me, and a--” she stopped. He was an intuitive guy, he got the picture.

“I’m sorry,” Phil murmured, straightening the edge of her shirt and wrapping his arms around her.

 _Again with the hugs,_ Daisy thought, for the most part fondly.

“And you’re okay with the story Melinda gave you?” He asked, looking sweetly concerned.

“Of course,” Daisy said, meaning it. She’d had a long _theoretical_ conversation with May about her best chances at getting immunity and protection, about what would make the most sense. And once Phil told her he had wondered if she might be a sex worker, the cover just fit too perfectly to pass up: a woman who had heard too much and wasn't expected to go to the cops. “Honestly, the worst part will be pretending I would actually have sex with Ward," she said lightly. "I know people always say 'you couldn't pay me enough,' but in this case it's really true."

“Sure,” Phil said, but still had that ‘worried’ face.

“You know, before I came here I stayed in LA for a couple months,” Daisy said, smiling. Phil furrowed his brow, curious about the apparent tangent. “There was this group of ladies I spent some time with, and they were just--awesome. They would bring me food, make sure I was safe if my van was in a rough area,” she said, and could see the understanding begin to dawn on his face. “They knew the best places to grab a shower, which was super helpful, you have no idea how long my hair was. It was a chore.”

“I’m glad you had a support system,” he said, and Daisy nodded. That wasn’t to say that the relationship was completely one-sided. She couldn’t do much, but Daisy used her own particular skills to help them out whenever she could. Whether it was getting a new ID (something she’d needed herself, so she was familiar) or scaring off a scary or violent client to the point that he never showed his face again… Daisy did what she could. She was ridiculously grateful; not only was it one of the first times she was shown genuine kindness, it was also the first time she was able to do something really good. So no, she had zero problems with that cover. 

“When I first started trying to get out, everything was black and white,” she told Phil, who led her over to the couch and sat down. “I thought I was killing bad guys all that time, then it turned out some of them were actually good guys. The people _paying_ me were the bad guys, so I thought--"

“Get rid of the bad guys instead,” he surmised.

“It sounds simplistic, when you say it out loud,” she admitted, drumming her fingers against her knee. “Childish.”

“Daisy, you _were_ a child when they took you,” Phil said passionately, grabbing both her hands in his. “They didn't want you to understand it, to question whether or not what they were having you do was wrong.” The disgust on his face, directed at Garrett and the rest, not her, she’d come to realize, made her feel like she needed to comfort him.

“When those women helped me, and I helped them, it just clicked. If I wanted to get out of there, and really do good, I couldn’t do that by killing more people. Even if they’re ‘bad.’”

Some of them _really_ bad.

Which was why, as hard as it was to step back and let others handle it, she knew that more killing wasn’t the answer. She would do something genuinely good for others, help protect people from these guys in the future.

“How did you confirm Pierce was involved?” Phil asked, leaning back against the arm of the couch. Daisy followed, settling under his arm and wrapping both of hers around his waist. Cuddling, that too was new and exciting.

“I got pretty good with computers,” she told him, snuggling in deeper. “They taught me a few illegal basics but I had a knack for it and started learning stuff on my own. Everything is so hush-hush you kind of have to dig for information. And Ward seemed so confident he was safe working for the police here, so I figured that was the place to start."

The financial transactions were easy enough to decipher, and then it was as simple as tracking those and cross-checking payments with the local news archives. Alexander Pierce was lauded as a local savior the past couple years, which was no wonder: it was easy to drastically reduce crime rates when you’re funding people to kill off the criminals.

_And apparently easy to turn a blind eye to whoever else might be dying._

Phil had become quiet, so Daisy tilted her head back trying to get a look at his face. “Did you fall asleep?”

“No,” he said, but she could tell from his voice (and closed eyes) he was getting there. “Maybe. Wake me up when all the bad guys are in jail and we can go on a real trip.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow. “A _real_ trip?”

“Mmmhmm,” he mumbled, and she could feel the rumbling in his chest. “Somewhere warm, sunny.”

“That’s nice,” Daisy replied, and even though it still seemed impossible, no matter how solid their plan, she let the idea of a warm sunny beach lull her to sleep, imagined ocean waves forming from the rise and fall of Phil’s chest beneath her cheek.

 

The sound of a cellphone roused Daisy from her sleep, and she looked over at the coffee table. Her eyes widened. “Phil,” she said, sitting up and grabbing the phone. “Wake up, it’s May.”

“Hm?” Phil asked, but sat up regardless. Seeing the phone in front of his face, he seemed to wake up, grabbing it from her hand. “Melinda?”

Daisy watched his face as he listened, briefly noticing how dark it had gotten outside. _So much for a quick power nap._

Combing a hand through her hair, she watched Phil carefully. For someone with such an open face, he didn’t give away much as he took in what May was telling him.

“Thank you, that’s great news,” he finally said, and Daisy felt the unfamiliar flutter of hope in her chest. Phil hung up, putting the phone back on the table before wrapping his arms around her. “The sting was successful, they have Pierce and John Garrett in custody,” he said, and Daisy could barely process how that made her feel.

“Ward?” She asked, and could feel Phil nodding against the side of her head.

“They tracked him to an old family beach house, should be bringing him in any moment.”

Daisy let out a noise that was somewhere between a laugh, a sigh, and a sob. Sure, there was going to be a trial, and she and Phil might both have to be witnesses if they couldn’t get out of it, but it was _over_. Or it would be, soon.

She wasn’t used to seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, not a happy one. Twisting around on the couch and grabbing the collar of Phil’s shirt, Daisy planted a kiss on his lips, not out of desperation, but _joy_.

 _And a little desperation,_  she supposed, feeling his hands move to cup her ass.

“We both smell like sleep, and this couch,” she said, pulling away briefly. “Not that it’s a bad couch, but shower?” Phil nodded, then seemed to reconsider the words.

“Together?”

She nodded, relishing in the excited blush on his face. “Then we can roast marshmallows in front of the fire?” It was an old-fashioned wood stove, not exactly a fireplace, but it would do. There was even a stack of chopped firewood all ready to go, and probably a few blankets in the linen closet they could throw on the floor.

Maybe they didn’t need a beach after all.

“Absolutely,” he said, standing up so quickly Daisy had to laugh.

“Eager,” she commented, and Phil gave her a slightly-abashed shrug. Daisy noticed their pile of bags by the door and let out a sigh. “I’m going to put our stuff in the bedroom otherwise I’ll probably never get to it, so why don’t you get started and I’ll _join you_ in a minute?” She asked, waggling her eyebrows. Phil’s answer was grabbing both sides of her face and kissing her deeply before running off to the bathroom. Across the cabin she heard the shower kick on and chuckled to herself. “You’re letting the steam out!” She called, and Phil peeked his head out of the door.

“What?” He had one sleeve of his shirt off already.

“This place is kind of drafty, stop letting the steam out,” she said, raising an eyebrow. Phil gave her an obedient salute before shutting the door behind him.

“Dork,” Daisy muttered, grinning from ear to ear. Grabbing their bags she moved toward the bedroom, but paused when Phil’s cellphone began to ring from the coffee table. Daisy picked it up, seeing “Melinda” on the screen.

“May,” she greeted, looking toward the bathroom door. “It’s Daisy, Phil’s--”

 _“Daisy, I need you to listen to me carefully,”_ Detective May said, her voice even and calm, but with an underlying urgency that stopped Daisy in her tracks.

“What is it?”

 _“If you’re not armed, you need to get out of there, we think--”_ Her voice was cut off as something slammed into the side of Daisy’s head, knocking her to the floor. Dazed, she looked up and saw Ward standing over her. As quickly as she could manage she tried to stand up, but he stepped on her injured hand before kicking her in the chest, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Ward squatted down, straddling her waist and wrapping one hand around her neck.

“Is that May?” He asked in a stage whisper, nodding toward the phone that had been knocked from her grasp. Reaching over, he put it on speaker. “Hey partner,” he said cheerfully, pressing his hand down more firmly on her neck when Daisy tried to call out.

 _“Ward,”_ May said, in a voice that Daisy suspected had frightened hundreds into confessing in her interrogation room. _“We have people on the way there, you’re not getting out of this.”_

“Yeah, we both know they're not going to get here in time,” Ward said casually, getting another choking noise out of Daisy by tightening his grip. It was more for May’s benefit than anything, she knew. Ward’s voice changed to one of mock sympathy as he ground the back of Daisy’s head against the floor. “You know May, you act tough but I know these things can get to you. The girl we found in that basement. That time your loser friend was bleeding out, all because you wouldn’t stop sticking your nose where it didn’t belong.” He looked down at Daisy incredulously. “Who cares that much about some dead drug dealers and bums?”

Daisy glared at him, trying to fight off the darkness that was creeping in from the outer corners of her eyes. Ward seemed to notice, because he released his grip just enough for her to gasp for breath before he resumed. He wanted her conscious.

“So May, if I were you I wouldn’t rush on over here,” he said, “because after I’m done with these two, you're really not going to want to see--”

Suddenly Ward was forcibly knocked away from Daisy, with a loud _crack_ that would have startled her if the lack of oxygen hadn’t left her disoriented. She could see Ward slump to the side, knocked out, but she couldn’t make sense of it.

Until she saw Phil standing there, stark naked, holding one of the logs for the wood stove. His eyes were wide and he was breathing heavily and it would have been funny if he didn’t look so terrified.

“What--” He said dropping the makeshift weapon and meeting Daisy’s eyes for the first time. “Oh god,” he muttered, kneeling down and rubbing her back as she rolled to the side, coughing. “Are you okay?” He asked, and Daisy just nodded, hoping he got the idea.

Pushing herself up, careful not to put pressure on her hand, Daisy looked Ward over. “We need to secure him,” she rasped, going through his pockets.

“Right, right,” Phil said, and Daisy wondered if he might pass out. He seemed pretty startled to say the least. “Does he have handcuffs?” Daisy snorted, not trying to be mean. But if Phil thought handcuffs would be enough, he really had no idea what he had just done.

_AKA knocked an incredibly dangerous assassin unconscious with a piece of firewood. While in the nude._

Okay, it was getting funnier.

Making a triumphant noise that ended up sounding more like a winded squeak, Daisy pulled a capped syringe from the inside pocket of Ward’s jacket. ' _Never leave home without it,'_ she recalled bitterly. Pulling the cap off with her teeth she stuck it into his neck and pushed the plunger. “Paralytic agent,” she explained, her voice still raspy but better than before. “It’s good stuff, should keep him down in case he wakes up before backup gets here.” Her eyes widened. “May?” She called, grabbing the phone.

 _“Are you alright?”_ The detective asked, and Daisy could tell she was out of breath. Probably on her way over.

“Yeah, we’re both fine, Ward is out of it for now. Turns out Phil was quite the knight in...well, no armor.” She raised an eyebrow suggestively, and beneath the look of general shock and disbelief on Phil’s face, she could see him narrow his eyes slightly.

 _“We’re on our way,”_ May said flatly, and Daisy had gotten to know her enough to know that she was using her relieved voice.

“Thank you, Detective May,” Daisy said, hearing the other woman hang up. Daisy placed the phone on the table and turned to face Phil. “The water didn’t run cold, did it?”

He just stared at her, still kneeling in the same place, still naked. “You did good, champ,” she tried, reaching over tentatively to touch his face. Phil placed his hand over hers, his eyes running over her face and neck. The spot where Ward had gripped her felt inflamed, and she knew she could probably expect a nasty bruise if it wasn’t already forming. “I’m fine,” she said quietly, stroking her thumb over his cheek.

“Yeah?” He asked, looking unsure. Daisy nodded.

“Yeah. And so are you, by the way,” she said, looking him up and down.

“That’s not--” Phil turned red, then looked back over at the still unconscious Ward. “I heard--and came out here, and I just-- it was right there,” he said, nodding in the direction of the abandoned log. “I thought I killed him,” he said, and the look in his eyes made her chest hurt a bit. Poor guy wasn’t built for this.

Daisy leaned over, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “You did good,” she repeated, pulling him into a hug this time. See? She was getting the hang of this “physical affection” thing. They stayed like that, Daisy stroking the back of his hair, whispering reassurances and answering whatever questions he asked, until headlights in front of the cabin signaled that Phil should probably put some clothes on.

* * *

“Naked?” Dr. Garner asked, and Phil buried his face in his hands. “Completely--”

“Totally butt-naked,” Daisy confirmed, taking a sip from her wine.

“Please stop.”

_"Enough."_

Phil looked up at Melinda, who looked slightly nauseated.

_Okay that’s not necessary._

Andrew chuckled quietly, holding up his hands in surrender. He wiped his mouth with his napkin, looking pensively at the table. “Now, I don’t want to seem paranoid, but are you sure it’s okay for the two of you to be here?”

Phil looked over at Daisy, who nodded profusely. It had been months since the trial ended, months of them moving around, of Daisy putting her skills to use tracking down others who had been involved in Garrett’s organization (and leaving a trail of breadcrumbs so the FBI could find them themselves.) They couldn’t say that, not without giving May information she wouldn’t want to/couldn’t know, but it was finally clear enough for Phil to come back home.

(While he realized that “home” was more than just a location, that really he had been home all that time on the road with her, it was still nice to see his friends.)

“I’m sure we’re fine,” Daisy said cryptically. “If not, at least this guy is around,” she added, playfully nudging Phil’s shoulder with her own.

“Yeah, okay,” he muttered, knowing full well that his ‘heroic rescue’ was nothing more than a fluke. Or, for once, him being in the right place at the right time.

Like that day at the highway rest stop.

“Seriously, it was like one of those Greek statues, very dashing. But, you know, hairier.”

"I'm sure." 

Andrew and Daisy were having far too much fun, and May seemed to agree if her switch from wine to bourbon was any indication. He felt for her, he knew that she still blamed herself to a degree for what had gone down. No matter how many times he tried to tell her otherwise. But Phil hoped him and Daisy being back might ease her mind.

“Can I get anyone a refill?” Andrew asked, standing up. As he stood, his hand jostled a nearly empty bottle of red wine, sending it teetering over the edge. Before anyone could begin to worry about the carpet, however, Daisy had grabbed the bottle by the neck and was placing it back on the table.

Andrew blinked, looking from the bottle, back to Daisy. Phil felt a bit guilty, not cluing him in entirely. Maybe now that they seemed to be in the clear, May would change her mind. Knowing her, she'd want to make absolutely sure it was safe before telling Andrew anything that might put him in harm's way. 

Then again, knowing the full scope of Daisy's skill set had its own advantages. 

“That was...impressive,” Andrew said, and Daisy stuffed a big forkful of pasta in her mouth.

“Crossfit,” she said, chewing. Across the table, May smirked.

“Right,” Andrew said skeptically, shaking his head and heading into the kitchen, presumably for another bottle of wine.

“Crossfit?” Phil asked, and Daisy shrugged.

“What? They seem intense, figured it would work.” She had a little smudge of sauce next to her lip, and Phil wondered how long it would take for May to look him in the eye again if he took care of that himself.

“You’ve got a little…” he said instead, gesturing to his own mouth in the same spot.

“Hm?” Daisy asked, before wiping at the spot with her thumb, then looking him in the eye as she licked it off. “Did I get it?”

Phil cleared his throat, determinedly looking away from her evil smirky face. Daisy sighed triumphantly, standing up. “I’m going to use the restroom,” she said, and May pointed her in the right direction. They watched her leave, sitting in companionable silence for a couple beats. 

“That girl is going to kill you, you know,” May said casually, taking a sip from her drink and raising an eyebrow.

Phil smiled wistfully, looking at the door. “Probably.”


End file.
